


Self-Preservation

by WL_Erkling



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Oneshot, dramione - Freeform, marriage law
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 08:03:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7161599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WL_Erkling/pseuds/WL_Erkling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione Granger has been called to the Ministry of Magic for her compulsory testing due to the new Marriage Law. What will she do when her match walks into the room?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Self-Preservation

Disclaimer: Characters, settings, and themes from the Harry Potter universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. I neither own, nor am making any profit from the writing or sharing of this story.

 

* * *

 

 

            She sat in the hallway, waiting for someone to call her name. There was nothing she could do at this point. They had tried everything. So many had been lost during Voldemort’s reign and the subsequent war. So few witches and wizards who remained were getting married, having children. The Wizengamot took it upon itself to enact new legislation which brought her here, to this uncomfortable seat in a ministry hallway.

            “Granger, Hermione.” The voice was pleasant, soft. Surely, this slender woman couldn’t be the one to signal the end of her life. “Follow me, please.” Panic. Her heart began racing and she tried to calculate whether she could reach her wand in time to apparate before the woman restrained her. No, it was no use. They would locate her and bring her back. She grit her teeth and stood, wiping sweaty palms down her skirt. Nodding her head toward the woman, but more in resignation to herself, the curly-haired brunette followed with heavy footsteps.

            “Have a seat just there, and we will begin in a moment.” The woman made a pointing gesture to an exam table. There was a large window across the way and Hermione instantly looked out of it, seeing only her own reflection in return. She wondered who was watching from the other side. Agitated fingers gripped and straightened out the very edge of her skirt. It was already wrinkled from the walk over. She could not find the concentration to apparate without splinching herself, so she walked, the slow walk of a woman condemned. When the witch spoke again, she did not hear it. Instead, she felt a hand on her shoulder and jumped. “Hermione, are you ready?” She wasn’t, but she nodded anyway. “You will cast a predetermined series of spells. I will have an on-going spell on you which will test their strength and capacity. We will use those results to match you to someone within the appropriate age and magic range. Do you understand?” She glanced at the hand on her shoulder, saw the wedding ring there. The woman’s look barely concealed the pity. Hermione nodded.

            “We will start with lumos, followed by nox. When you are ready.”

            “L-lumos.” The light was dim, but grew bright rather quickly. She put it out with a quick,   
“nox,” and lowered her wand.

            “Good. Next is wingardium leviosa. That book over there.” She gestured to a nearby table.

            “Wingardium leviosa.” The book levitated, then settled back down. No flair, no extra movement. Short and to the point.

            “Expecto Patronum.” At this, Hermione looked up. Could she conjure a happy memory now? Would she see that bubbly otter rolling and flopping around? She shook her head and lifted her wand again.

            In a rather more confident voice than she felt, she called out, “Expecto patronum!” The soft blue light emerged, forming into the familiar otter she watched as it rolled off of the nearby cart, completed a few flips, and then nodded happily at her. She smiled sadly, then let it dissipate.

            “Very good, Miss Granger. That will be all I need to see today. You will be escorted to a room until your match has been found.” The door opened and an assistant mediwitch walked in the room, motioning for her to follow.

            Hermione clutched her wand tightly as she walked down the hallway. The ministry had opened up a rarely-used section of the auror wing once the new legislation had passed. Once there, she noticed a medical-grade hallway filled with doors. Presumably, this was where she would spend her days waiting to get pregnant. Her mouth twitched and she had to take a deep breath in order not to hex the young woman leading her to a nearby door. The blonde before her touched her wand to the knob, which was obviously keyed to it, and led her inside.

            “Miss Granger, please press this button,” she pointed to a call button by the door, “when you need anything. We will assist you whenever called. You have a small drawing room, a bedroom, the bathroom is there to the right, and a dining area off to the left. Your meals will be provided for you so long as you are under ministry care. Do you have any questions?”

            Hermione was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn’t hear what was asked. Another tap to the shoulder brought her out of it.

            “Miss Granger?”

            “Oh. Yes?”

            “Do you have any questions?”

            “None that you can answer. Thank you.”

            A quick nod had the assistant out the door and Hermione alone. She wandered around the room for a while, unsure what to do with herself. Several times, she tried the door to see if it would open. Even an “alohomora” or two and it didn’t budge. She was well and truly stuck here until the ministry found her a match. It was utterly ridiculous that they felt the need to use everyone like breeding stock. The ministry felt that with fewer witches and wizards getting married, having children after the war, that there would be fewer witches and wizards to carry on the magical lines. Even muggle-born rates seemed lower after Voldemort’s death. She shook her head. There was nothing to be done. The Wizengamot had voted it in with a majority vote. It did not look like it would be repealed anytime soon.

            Several of her friends from Hogwarts had already been matched. Harry and Ginny were expecting before the law went into place, so they were exempt from the new law. Neville was matched with Luna in the first round. They got pregnant right away. Luna mentioned something about wrackspurts helping her know when the time was right. Neville just looked embarrassed and ready to go home. Ron… Ron had been taken in a month ago. He was matched within a week to one of the Patil twins, Parvati, it was. They were still waiting to get pregnant, but the last she heard it was only because they had just missed her last cycle. Hermione sighed. She wondered how long it would be before she was matched.

            On one hand, she wished it would happen soon, so that she could get this over with and get out of there. On the other hand, she wanted to hold off for as long as she could. While having children had definitely been in the plans with Ron, she felt extremely uncomfortable with the idea of having to breed like animals under the eyes of the ministry.

            All of that thinking soon had her exhausted. Not more than ten minutes after falling over on the couch, she heard a quiet knock at the door. Once again, her heartbeat started jumping out of her throat and she stood, wand in hand. Backing into a corner, she croaked, “Come in.”

            “Miss Granger, I have your dinner.”

            A shaky breath came out, one that she didn’t even know she was holding. “Oh. Thank you. Please set it on the table.” She watched as the young man walked over and set down a single tray on the table. He saw her wand out, eyes widened a bit, then fled. “I won’t—” The words didn’t make it out before the door was closed and she was left alone again. “Hurt you.” She finished the sentence anyway, frowning, then made her way over to the table.

            To her surprise, the food was decent. They had sent her roasted garlic chicken, a side of steamed broccoli, and some fresh carrots. She ate quickly. There was nothing to do in the room, so she walked back over to the couch and fell asleep. It was morning before she heard another soft knock.

            This time, they didn’t hesitate to open the door without waiting for a response. “Miss Granger, I have breakfast.” She shook awake, wiping sleep from her eyes.

            “Please set it on the table. Thank you.” A soft tap let her know the food had been set down and then she heard the door close.

            Hermione sat up. By the time she walked over and saw the food, she realized there were two trays. She stood up straight, breathing shallowly and processing the information before turning around.

            “So you’ve realized there’s food for two now.”

            That voice. She knew that voice. She let out a gasp and spun, not caring that she knocked a fork to the floor. “Malfoy.” There he stood, blond hair casually swept back across one slate-grey eye. He wore a burgundy jumper over dark grey trousers. Arms were crossed and he had one hip cocked to the side. That familiar smirk was etched into his face, which stared across the room at her.

            “Granger.” The word was careful, full of meaning. “Are we going to stand here all day, or are we going to eat whatever gruel the ministry provided us with?” His face tilted to the side, indicating the trays of food behind her. She looked back, mouth gaping like a fish out of water for a moment before he strode forward. “Look, Granger. I’m here. You’re here. Now that we’ve established that, let’s eat so that we both don’t perish before they even get a crack at us.”

            She nodded, unable to get anything resembling a word out of her mouth. Slowly, she leaned down and picked up the fork. All the while, her wand was clutched in her hand, and she was watching Malfoy closely. He merely walked forward, took a seat at the table and began to eat. When she saw that nothing else was forthcoming, she, too, sat and started eating the fresh fruit and cereal. Silence reigned over the meal, as neither of them felt the need to disrupt the other’s concentrated chewing.

            Once everything had been devoured—every scrap that they could find, there was nothing to hide behind. Hermione pursed her lips and looked down at the table. “I take it you are my match, then.”

            “Of course I am. Why else would I be here?”

            She was angry at this, angry at the entire situation. “How long have you known?”

            “They knew directly after your test. I’ve been here for two weeks now. Apparently you weren’t ready for…” he looked her over as if assessing a potions ingredient for freshness, “ _me_ , until today.”

            Hermione’s cheeks bloomed. “They haven’t cast any spells on me since the initial tests. How would they know when I was ready?” This was muttered almost to herself, but being so close, Draco heard it anyway.

            “There are monitoring spells on all inhabitants in each of these rooms. They report back to the ministry mediwitches and wizards assigned to us. They would know the moment your heartrate goes up _and_ why.” If her cheeks could be any redder, she felt they would be bleeding.

            “So, you and I, we are…” She let the words trail off.

            “Matched, with both skill level and magical strength. By pairing us, they have signed our marriage documents, much to my mother’s chagrin, I’m sure.” At this, he grinned. This threw Hermione off, as she didn’t know how to react. “We are supposed to copulate at our _earliest convenience_.” The last two words were said with outright petulance.

            Hermione began fiddling with the edge of her skirt again. She bit her lip and didn’t realize that Draco had risen from his seat when she felt a hand settle on her shoulder. An indignant squeak slipped out then and she looked up, fully expecting him to drag her into the bedroom and get it over with.

            “Gra—Hermione.” The name seemed stuck in his throat for a minute. She looked into his eyes, which seemed almost sad now. Was she that pitiful? Tears threatened at the edge of her eyes and he grabbed the hand that was scrunching her skirt, lifting it in his own. He knelt down.

            “Fuck the ministry.” This startled her and he let out a short, barking laugh. “Neither of us wanted this. As much as you probably think very little of me,” he looked a little pained to be saying that, “I will not be your rapist.” She stared at him. Those tears which had been held back until now broke through the dam and were streaming down her cheeks.

            Malfoy’s slender fingers reached out and tried to wipe them away, but she lifted her own hands and dropped her head into them, crying unabated. With nothing else to do, Draco wrapped one arm around her shoulder and carefully put another under her legs. She whimpered, but folded into his chest. He hadn’t expected this when he’d been told he was matched. He fully expected a Slytherin, perhaps Pansy or Daphne, maybe even a Ravenclaw. He softly shook his head, but carried the very-much-a-Gryffindor woman in his arms to the bedroom.

            Once Hermione realized where she was, she panicked, began flailing a bit and Draco had to walk quickly and set her on the edge of the bed.

            “Stop it.” He grabbed both of her wrists and held her down. “We aren’t here for that. I brought you in here to sleep.” Once understanding came across those pleading brown eyes, Draco let go. “I will sleep on the couch.”

            “But—” She tried to lift her chin, to smooth out the wrinkles in her skirt and show a brave face.

            “No buts. You aren’t ready for that. You aren’t ready for anything.” With nothing more but a head tilt in acknowledgment of their predicament, Draco left the room.

            Hermione was asleep quickly. She slept fretfully and when she woke up in the same clothes she had arrived in, the only thing she could think of was taking a shower. Crawling out of bed, she rummaged around in the drawers until she found some ministry provided clothing, which amounted to the equivalent of scrubs, and headed quietly out of the bedroom. Half-way to the bathroom, she saw Draco curled up on the couch, one arm pillowed under his head. She smiled just for a moment, thinking that he was not the child she knew back at Hogwarts, and for that, she was grateful. Before she let that thought run away with her, she snuck off to the bathroom and took a quick, but very thorough shower.

            Upon re-emerging from the bathroom, she noticed that breakfast had arrived. Draco sat at the table, his hair mussed and sleep not quite stricken from his face. This was definitely not the pristine boy she knew from school. The young man who never had a hair out of place. She giggled for a moment at that, remembering the time she punched him and then gloated about it to Harry and Ron.

            “What has you in such a good mood this morning?”

            “Nothing.” She tried to hide the smile in her spoon, but was unsuccessful.

            “That smile isn’t for nothing. Spill, Granger.”

            “If we’re married, _Draco_ , then you should call me by my name.” He looked stunned that she’d called him out on it, and he nodded, just the once. “If you must know, I was thinking about punching you.” He blanched and lowered one hand to where his wand was. “Not now, you dolt. When we were in Hogwarts.”

            “Ah. That.” Draco shook his head and shoved a spoonful of omelet into his mouth.

            “Yes.” Hermione laughed openly this time, letting it all out. There was so much tension at that breakfast table she was surprised the silverware wasn’t singing with it. Draco simply sat there and stared at her.

            “Are you okay?”

            “Yes. I think I am” She stuck her fork in a piece of pineapple and shoved it, quite ungracefully into her mouth.

            By the time all of Draco’s food was gone, Hermione had eaten what she could handle that morning, as her stomach was in knots. She did not know how to act around him and she didn’t even know what to do now that they were expected to stay together until she was pregnant. This thought alone sent her into another panic and she started breathing shallowly, both hands on the table and eyes downcast.

            “Hermione.” The word was slow, careful. When she did not respond, he knelt next to her again. “Hermione. Talk to me.”

            “I don’t know how you… me… I don’t. I’ve never. I—” Her breathing stuttered and she looked up into his eyes. For a moment, she saw pain, but it transformed to understanding.

            “Hermione, the first thing you need to do is breathe. I can’t very well get you pregnant if you aren’t breathing. Necrophilia really isn’t my thing.” She smiled at this and laughed, leaning forward and placing her forehead on his shoulder.

            “I know nothing about you.”

            “What do you want to know?”

            “Everything. I need to know everything.”

            “I don’t think that we have time for that—”

            “What do you mean?” She was exasperated now.

            “I was going to say I don’t think we have time for that _right now_.” He placed a hand on each of her shoulders, sitting her upright. “But we will. What do you need to know about me right now?”

            “I-I don’t even know where to start.”

            “Hermione, why don’t we stick to the need-to-know in order to get through this… ordeal. We apparently have the rest of our lives to work on the rest. Agreed?” She nodded. “Okay. I’ll go first. I’ve had three sexual partners. I wasn’t currently in a relationship when this happened.” He looked to her. She just stared at him until she realized he was waiting for her to reciprocate.

            “Oh, I’ve um, I’ve not had any sexual partners.” That bright blush returned to her cheek and she focused on a loose string on the pants she wore. “I w-was in a relationship with Ron.”

            “You and he never?” She bit her bottom lip and stared at him. “You mean to tell me that they’re pulling virgins for this fucking law?” Draco’s irritated groan radiated through her. She felt inadequate. She tried to stand, to move away, but his hand shot out and kept her there. “Where are you going?” Grey eyes pierced through her.

            “Y-you don’t want me knowing that I haven’t…”

            “Granger. That has nothing to do with this. I just can’t believe they’d force someone to do this who hadn’t… Nevermind.” He wiped a hand across his face. “Granger, do you want this?”

            “My name is Hermione.” Her stubborn confidence was back now and her eyebrows knit together. “I don’t want this, but I’ve got no choice now. I’ll have to make the best of it.”

            “Oh, so you’ll just make the best of me. I’m not good enough for the ever-perfect Hermione Granger.” He stood and walked away. Standing by the couch.

            “Draco, that’s not what I meant.” Her voice was quiet. “I just don’t know how any of this is supposed to work. I’ve not done,” she gestured between him and herself, “this.”

            “Do you want it?” He walked closer, standing half-way between the couch and her now.

            “I don’t know.”

            “Do. You. Want. It?” He was directly before her now, forcing her to look directly at him with those slender fingers on her chin. “I need an answer, _Hermione_.” He leant down and pressed his lips to hers. They were soft as they slid across her own. She felt him pull away and thought that he was done, but he came back in, swiping his tongue across the bottom of her upper lip before slanting his head and waiting for her to open to him. When she did, his tongue dove into her mouth, teasing and twisting between them. Hermione’s hands had reached out at that point and were running up his sides, grabbing at his jumper, but he stopped her, retreating from the kiss. Her eyes were hazy now, passion-glazed. She panted for a moment before he asked again. “Do you want it?” This time, his voice was a bit strained.

            “Yes.”

            That word was all he needed before he pulled her off the chair and guided them both to the bedroom. There were several kisses that hindered their progress, wandering hands that caused any semblance of a plan to halt in its tracks. By the time Hermione’s knees hit the edge of the bed, they were both breathing heavily. She tried to move backward still, but he stopped her. Instead, he stood her up and turned her around so that her back was to him. She felt the hard planes of his body against her and sighed.

            Draco began laying down the foundations of what would be the temple of Hermione. Soft, layered kisses just below her ear trailed down her neck and dove into the shirt she wore. When he could no longer reach any more skin, his hands trailed down the fabric and curled around the edges. She tensed, but those lips continued to play her neck like a finely-tuned lute. It wasn’t until he began lifting the shirt that he took her earlobe into his mouth, nibbling and rolling the edge. She moaned, squirming beneath his touch. When that shirt got to her breasts, Hermione tried to push it back down, but he tutted and pushed her hands away. She blushed, knowing that she was not wearing anything underneath and wanting to keep it on. Instead, he lifted it the rest of the way off, careful of her hair and immediately swiped his tongue up the outside of her ear, blowing on it. She shivered.

            His hands splayed open on her ribs, massaging gently upward. When they reached the underside of her breasts, she inhaled sharply. Those lips of his had made their way from her neck and were currently assaulting her shoulders, nibbling, licking and kissing ever-downward.  A knuckle rubbed the bottom of one breast, which turned into an extended finger. That finger molded into a hand cupping and rolling the pliant flesh around. She exhaled deeply, head thrown back on to his shoulder. When those dexterous fingertips found her nipple, she practically jumped away from him, but he was already back to kneading and exploring. She felt the jolt right down to her toes, writhing against him in the aftershock.

            In one fluid motion, Draco spun her around and had his hands right back on her breasts. She did not get to look at him very long, for his mouth was then attached to one sensitive nipple, stretching it between wet lips, applying a lick and then blowing soft, cold streams of air on it. All of this in the span of a minute had her moaning wantonly, barely standing upright with all of the new sensations. His arms wrapped around her. Draco backed her toward the bed and laid her on the edge of it. Hermione reached out and grabbed at the hem of his jumper. He lifted it for her, revealing a lean torso with a light trail of hair disappearing into the trousers he still wore.

            Her hands ran up and down his stomach, feeling every muscle and movement as he continued to work her over. When his mouth once again made it to hers, they both stopped. Hands barely moved on one another and they just focused on the feeling of tongue against tongue, breathing in deeply. Draco broke away, leaning his forehead against hers with a lazy smile.

            “Are you ready for more, Miss Granger?”

            She nodded shyly and he backed away from her just enough to hook his thumbs in the trousers she wore. They slid down slowly, partly because she had to lift her hips and wriggle out of them, but also partly because Draco took his time admiring the flesh as it was exposed. He watched each inch as it was revealed. Once they were fully off and Hermione was lying there in her underwear, he nodded for her to scoot a bit further up the bed. When she obliged, he crawled slowly up to her. This had her breath hitching, for she didn’t know where he was going or in what direction he would end up. He started at her toes.

            Slender fingers wrapped around each part of her, massaging and warming the flesh as he trailed behind with kisses. He wanted her to know that this was not going to be something quick, something forgettable. Her body was something to worship, and so he did. She writhed beneath him, quite sensitive to touch. In some areas, she was ticklish, but in other areas he heard her soft moans and the increase in breathing. When he made it to her underwear, his palm lay flat across her and he rubbed in circles, waiting for that tell-tale hitch and jump when he found just the right spot. She nearly climbed off the bed when he did.

            He smiled and backed away from her, which seemed to confuse Hermione. With a smirk, he lowered his trousers, revealing black boxers that tented with impatience. She blushed quite intensely when she looked down at him, but looked away quickly. He crawled back up to her and hooked his thumbs once again under her last piece of protection, sliding it down. She looked unsure, biting her lip, but allowed him to do so nonetheless. Fully revealed to him, he smiled and leaned down to place a kiss to the inside of each thigh.

            Draco lay down beside her and lay his mouth against her tight nipple, tugging on it once or twice to distract her while his open hand worked its way across her thigh and toward her core. The pad of his thumb circled around her clit a few times, causing her to clench her thighs together and grip the sheets, but when his fingers moved downward her leg fell open for him. He swiped at the edge of her a couple of times, feeling that she was wet and ready for this. One finger slipped inside and she gasped. He looked up at her then, watching as her eyes closed. Slowly, he moved that finger in and out, letting her get used to the sensation. Once she relaxed a bit, he added another. Hermione was breathing steadily, if not deeply, and Draco began to curl his fingers upward, looking for her reaction. When he found it, he continued, despite her thrashing. He continued pumping his fingers inside her, occasionally lashing out at her nipple until she came undone and clenched his fingers tightly, letting out a harsh grunt as she did so.

            He waited a moment, softly moving with her inner walls, until he felt that she was relaxed somewhat after her orgasm. Withdrawing his fingers, he brought them to his mouth and licked them off. Hermione looked shocked at this, but Draco’s eyes were closed and he seemed to be enjoying it.

            “Are you still with me?” His eyes were liquid fire as he looked up the plane of her body.

            “Yes.”

            Draco nodded, then reached down for his boxers. Hermione watched him carefully. When they were off and he was bare, she couldn’t help but stare at him. There he was, nestled in a patch of blonde curls. Unsure of herself, she reached out to touch him.

            “It’s okay.” He placed his hand over hers and moved it toward his erection. She wrapped her fingers around it and was surprised at how soft the skin was. Draco moved her hand a few times, showing her the right amount of pressure to use and then backed off, letting her be. Much like anything else Hermione Granger attempts, she was a quick study. Fascinated, she leaned in and was watching the skin ripple around the head as she twisted and tugged. Draco groaned at the sensations and at watching this woman play with him, no—with any man for the first time.

            “Hermione, stop.” She looked scared for a moment.

            “Does it hurt? Did I do something wrong?”

            “No, no. Just if you keep doing that, we won’t get to anything else.” She caught on to his meaning and with an open-mouthed “oh” returned to her place on the bed. He kissed her gently, lingering there for a moment. “Are you ready?” It was quiet, unsure even for him.

            She waited. Her response was measured and when she said it, she was looking directly into his eyes. “Yes, Draco.” He shivered at hearing his name.

            There was a moment of shifting as Draco maneuvered his lithe body around hers and nudged her thighs farther part. One hand reached down and rubbed along her leg, reassuring her that she was safe. As he leaned forward, she felt him rub up and down along her folds. Her hands were wrapped around his upper arms, an intense gaze locked between them. Draco’s eyes never wavered as he tilted his pelvis, found her, and began sliding in. There was a brief moment of uncertainty in Hermione’s eyes before he was fully seated and he breathed in deep with her, pushing past and watching as she shuddered beneath him. They lay there for a moment, one of her legs wrapped around his waist and the other laying open on the bed.

She tried to remember how to breathe. In those few moments, there was just too much to think about. Draco could see her mind whirring around and before she could drift away from him, he leaned down, captured her mouth with his own, and pulled partly out. She gasped into the kiss, feeling every pull and aching delight as he moved within her. When he came back to her, he watched as she continued her open-mouthed gasping. He built a slow rhythm then, allowing her to just feel him drive forward, grinding his hips downward with every forward thrust.

            Hermione began her silent exploration of his body then. Hands moving, nails dragging along his back, and even an encouraging grab to his firm buttock as he made a particularly rough thrust that had her moaning beneath him. Draco concentrated on trying to ignore his own sensations, thinking errant thoughts when it got too intense. For those few, sweet moments when he felt them syncing up and he listened to her gasping into the hollow of his neck, he very nearly lost himself. He could feel her tightening around his shaft, her breathing coming quicker and her hands becoming more erratic.

            It seemed to happen all at once—she leaned forward, bit down at the nape of his neck while letting out a guttural cry and coming completely undone around him. This spurred him on, his own thrusting getting faster. She whimpered beneath him, arching into his chest and clawing at his back as if holding more tightly could ground her to this moment, this place. One particularly rough drag of her nails across upper back saw him spilling into her with a muffled grunt and a few last frenzied pulses of his hips.

            In the moments after it was over, Draco placed a tender kiss atop her forehead, another on each eye, and then finally, a heated kiss where their tongues said the words they could not. So many emotions roiled through them both. When they had calmed, he pulled out of her and lay to the side, pulling her close. Neither had any desire to move.

            “Draco?” Hermione whispered.

            “Yea?”

            “What if I don’t get pregnant right away?”

He was silent for a moment. “We were paired for a reason, Hermione. Most couples have gotten pregnant within a month. I think they’re giving us fertility potions, to be honest.”

“And if I don’t?”

            “We’ll deal with that when it comes.” He wiped the sweat-streaked hair from her brow. “For now, just rest. We’ve done more than they had any right to ask.”

            “Draco?”

            “Yea?”

            “Will you stay with me?”

 


End file.
